This morning as I was starting downstairs I came face-to-face with my worst nightmare.

Holy shitballs, there was a snake on the steps. It was about halfway down and it wasn’t moving. That could mean one of three things:

It was dead.

It was asleep.

It was dead because the cat had eaten half of it and left that half as a little present for me.

I tried not to panic. I yelled at it in my sternest voice:

“Go away snake. Leave me alone. Get out of here.”

No response. I yelled at the cat:

“Go get that snake and get it out of here. Go on. Get it now you bastard cat!”

She just looked at me so I picked her up and threw her at the snake. She landed about three steps short and trotted off down stairs.

My bedroom is on the second floor and is way too far off the ground for me to consider jumping. And clearly the cat is proving herself once again to be unreliable.

I thought about my options and came up with a plan. I found a yardstick in a closet that would allow me to move the snake while providing a suitable 3-foot distance. But I need at least three degrees of separation between me and the snake so I fitted two knee socks around the end of the stick. Because I didn’t want to actually see the snake while I was touching it with the yardstick, I decided to cover it with a small towel.

The first towel I tossed down the steps didn’t get anywhere near it. The second toss wasn’t much better. I was going to have to get closer. I walked down one step. Then another. The snake didn’t move.

Hmmmm…is that really a snake.

I poke it with my sock-covered stick.

Oh, what do you know. It isn’t a snake. It’s some sort of metal hook. Who knows where it came from.

Of course the snake was between me and my camera, but after I had some coffee, I took this picture for you:

A few weeks ago I was out walking my dog and came across the biggest, fattest snake I’d ever seen. It was black with yellow stripes and was lurking among my neighbor’s shrubs in the front of their house.

It was big, fat and coiled … suspiciously wrapping one of its ends around a spigot.

Yes, I jumped and ran over a black garden hose. But in my defense, the yellow stripes certainly looked like they belonged to a cobra or a python. 🙂

You know, when one gets older sometimes glasses are required. Either that or strong coffee or serious liquor. Any of the above would have helped you in your hour of distress.
As for a recommendation for the perfect snake-catcher, my son-in-law swears by a very long-handled tongs. And I can bear witness that this tool is effective. In combination with the coffee or the liquor, you would be unstoppable.

pr9000–Hose pipes are the evil twins of snakes. I have been fooled by them more than once.
Whit–OML
Bo–I probably have this phobia because of some trauma you and Rick subjected me to back in the day.
Julie–The snake was BETWEEN me and the coffee, the tongs and the liquor. All I had was the yard stick!

You need to buy one of those grippy tools with the super long handle they make for old people who can’t reach the top shelves and keep it in your bedroom.

My kitty Mikey always had a HUGE thing for snakes, and when I lived in Kansas City, snakes were always sneaking into the basement. He hung in the basement most of the time in the hopes of yet another snake invasion. Unfortunately, he didn’t kill OR mutilate OR eat them in the basement–he’d bring them up to the sunroom and play with them there. I was constantly 1) rescuing injured snakes and putting them in the yard 2) cleaning up dead snakes and putting them in the yard 3) hunting down bloody snake parts (until I felt I had the entire snake) and putting them in the yard. When I moved to KC, I was deathly afraid of snakes, but over time, I came to pity, rather than fear them. Poor li’l fellers.